I didn’t even realize I’d dozed off until the bedroom door creaked open. I flinched awake to find Troy standing there with a tray. The smell of my favorite soup—creamy chicken and wild rice—wafted across the room.

He held up the tray with that fake boyish grin that used to make my heart ache. Pathetic, I thought. The same old routine.

“Cam, you should eat something. You look so tired. All this stress about the company paperwork and the wedding… I don’t like seeing you like this.”

I forced my face to stay blank. What do you want? I wanted to scream it in his face.

Because I knew this game. It was his favorite scheme—like clockwork. Whenever he needed me to bend, whenever he wanted me pliable and sweet, he’d show up like this. A tray of warm soup. That soft, sorry look in his eyes.

I used to think it meant he loved me. I used to fall for it every single time.

Don’t be mad, Cam, I heard his voice echo from years ago—back when we were just twenty, back when I still believed he’d never betray me. Don’t be mad. Look, I brought you your favorite—come on, baby, eat. Smile for me.

And I would. Like a fool, I’d smile through my tears, swallow my hurt, forgive his betrayal—his flirty glances with Jasmine, his forgotten promises. Every bowl of soup tasted like my own stupidity.

But not anymore.

He sat beside me on the bed, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “Hey, don’t look at me like that. We’re almost there, right? After the wedding, it’ll all be done. The merger will go through, and we can finally start our real life.”

The words made bile rise in my throat. “The paperwork will be ready after the wedding,” I said flatly.

He grinned. “Good. I can’t wait to make you mine forever.”

I swallowed my disgust. He didn’t want me—he wanted my name, my father’s legacy. My stomach twisted when I imagined him and Jasmine laughing about how they’d finally secured their golden ticket.

Later that afternoon, we went to the boutique to fit my wedding dress. Jasmine tagged along, of course, breezing around the silk-lined showroom like she owned it. The moment my gown was brought out, her eyes glittered with something cold and possessive.

“Let me try it on,” she said sweetly. “Just for fun. I’ve always wanted to see what I’d look like in a wedding gown.”

I gaped at her. “Are you serious? That’s my dress—”

“Oh, come on, Cam. Let her,” Troy drawled from the velvet couch, not even glancing at me. “If she wants to see how it looks, what’s the harm? You can buy another one if you want.”

I looked at him like he’d grown two heads. “It’s my dress, Troy. I’m the bride.”

Trevor, lounging beside him, shrugged. “So what? It’s just a color. Don’t be dramatic.”

I clenched my fists so tightly my nails bit into my palms. Jasmine’s eyes glittered with victory as she twirled in my gown in front of the mirrors. When she finally stepped out, leaving the fabric crumpled and reeking of her perfume, I told myself it didn’t matter. I’d never wear it anyway.

I picked another simple gown and slipped into the fitting room. The satin was soft against my skin, almost mocking in its promise of a fairytale that wasn’t real. From the other side of the door, Jasmine’s voice drifted through—sharp and low.

“When will you be gone, Camille? Are you sure you’re marrying him? You know he doesn’t want you. He’ll come back to me in the end.”

I pressed my palm to the cold wall, forcing my voice not to crack. “Don’t worry. I’ll be gone soon. You’ll get what you want.”

She laughed, a brittle, empty sound. “Good. I’m tired of pretending. You’re just in the way.”

I closed my eyes, trying to breathe through the sick twist in my chest. Then I smelled it. Smoke. Faint at first, then thicker. I pushed the door open a crack—and flames flickered along the floor-length curtain.

“Help!” I screamed. “Someone—there’s a fire—help me!”

Through the haze, I saw them. Troy, Trevor, Jasmine—standing together by the boutique door. Jasmine pressed her hand to her mouth, eyes wide. “Oh no! Camille—save her!”

But Troy just looked bored. “She’s fine. Let’s go out before you get hurt. We don’t want you to get bruises, you know how precious you are to us..”

Trevor scoffed. “And she can handle herself.”

Their shapes blurred as the smoke thickened. My throat burned. I stumbled backward, reaching for the wall, but the satin tangled around my feet. The last thing I saw before the darkness claimed me was Jasmine’s cold smile behind her perfect mask of concern.

When I woke up, everything smelled faintly of smoke and antiseptic. The ceiling above me was a bland hospital white, and for a moment I felt like I might suffocate under it. A nurse hovered at my side, checking the bandage on my wrist.

“You’re lucky,” she said softly, like it was some grand blessing. “The fire didn’t cause any permanent damage. You were saved in time.”

Saved? Lucky? If only she knew.

The flames didn’t really burn me. The betrayal did. Over and over, scorching deeper than any fire could reach.

I pressed my eyes shut, fighting the stinging behind my lids. I wanted to scream. But I didn’t. Not now, Camille. Hold it in.

Just then, the door swung open and Troy strolled in like he owned the place—like he still owned me. A pitying frown curved his lips as he reached out to touch my hair, like he could pretend he cared. His fingers brushed my cheek. I wanted to slap them away.

“Baby, how are you feeling?” he murmured. “You’re okay, right? You can’t be hurt, not now… you know our wedding is tomorrow.”

I stared at him, numb.

“Our wedding,” he repeated, like I hadn’t heard him the first time. “And the contract signing with the board. You know we can’t postpone that, Cam. It’s too important. You wouldn’t do that to me, right?”

I forced my lips to move. “Yes. I know.”

He gave me that smug, triumphant smile—like a victor securing his prize.

“Good girl.” He bent down, kissing my forehead like it meant something. “Rest up. We need you at your best tomorrow.” Then he left without another word, his shoes clicking down the corridor.

I drifted in and out of sleep, the hospital monitor beeping steadily. I should’ve felt something—fear, anger, grief. But all I felt was empty. Until my phone lit up on the side table.

A video. Troy and Trevor laughing in the limo, Jasmine draped across Troy’s lap in a dress I bought her, kissing him like I’d never existed. Like the wedding tomorrow was just another excuse for them to finish what they’d started years ago.

The next morning, the nurses fussed over me as they discharged me—bandages fresh, hair combed, makeup just enough to cover the bruises of sleepless nights. I stared at my reflection in the mirror. A ghost in white silk.

At the apartment, everything was chaos. Troy was already half-dressed in his suit, tie loose around his neck, Trevor helping him with his cufflinks. Jasmine floated around them like some pretty parasite, clinging to Trevor’s arm, dropping kisses on Troy’s cheek. I wanted to vomit.

“Oh!” Jasmine gasped suddenly, eyes sparkling at the tiny velvet box on my dresser. “Camille, this necklace… it’s beautiful. Can I borrow it?”

I froze. “It’s mine. It’s from my mother. I’m wearing it today.”

Troy clicked his tongue, snatching it up like it belonged to him. “Stop being selfish. She just wants to wear it for the photos. You know how Jasmine is. Be nice to her, yeah? It suits her.”

“It’s my wedding day—” I started, my voice cracking.

“Our wedding,” Troy snapped. He turned, pressing the necklace into Jasmine’s hands. “We will go ahead, so fix yourself.” He shot me a dark look. “Just don’t screw things up today, Cam. After the ceremony, we sign the papers, I get the company, and we’re all done, right? Meet us at the church. Don’t be late.”

He leaned in, lips brushing my ear. “And don’t embarrass me.”

Then they were gone—him, Trevor, Jasmine—like my life was a dirty coat they could toss aside when it didn’t fit anymore.

I stood there, alone, staring at the apartment. This place that my father built for me. For my future. Our future, once upon a time.

But now? There was nothing left here for me.

I didn’t waste a second. I went to my room. I packed my passport, the last of my clothes, the only jewelry that was truly mine.

A knock came at the door. My lawyer’s agent, just as promised. He’d brought the movers to clear the rest. The apartment was sold. The deal was done.

I took one last look around, then set a tiny cake on the table. I stabbed a candle into it, lit it, and watched the flame flicker. My goodbye gift. Beside it, I left the engagement ring—cold, metal, empty—and a note in bold marker:

I’m done with you. I’m marrying someone else. Be happy without me. Goodbye, my ex-fiancé.

When I stepped outside, the sun was warm on my face. A black car idled at the curb. Martin leaned against it, arms folded, that infuriating smirk playing at the edge of his lips. My sworn enemy since high school. My accidental savior.

“Ready, runaway bride?” he called.

“More than,” I smiled.

I slipped into the car, slammed the door shut, and watched my past blur in the rearview mirror as we drove to the airport.

Troy stood at the altar, fingers drumming impatiently on the edge of the marble podium. The grand hall of the church, dripping in white lilies and gold ribbons, felt like a cage closing in on him. Camille was late—thirty minutes late.

He glanced over his shoulder for the hundredth time. The guests were starting to murmur, heads leaned together in polite but curious whispers. Some had their phones out already, slyly snapping pictures of the groom pacing at the altar like a trapped dog.

Trevor lingered at the side, brows furrowed. Even he was starting to look nervous, tapping his foot, shooting Jasmine an accusing glance. Jasmine only gave a thin smile, twirling a strand of hair around her finger as she leaned against a pew like she owned the place.

Troy pulled out his phone again, texting Camille for the tenth time.

Where are you? Hurry up.

Answer me.

You know what happens if you humiliate me.

Nothing. No delivered, no seen.

He dialed instead—voice low, teeth clenched as he barked orders to the security guard near the entrance. “Find her. I don’t care how. She can’t be far.”

One of the older guests, Troy’s uncle, leaned forward with a forced chuckle, whispering loudly enough for the people behind him to hear. “Maybe the bride got cold feet, eh? Shouldn’t leave a man like Troy standing alone.”

Trevor shot a glare in their direction, but Troy’s eyes never left the stained glass doors. “She wouldn’t dare,” he growled under his breath, though his gut twisted.

Beside him, Jasmine tapped her painted nails against her wine glass. “Maybe she’s just toying with us,” she said sweetly. “You know, dramatic flair—Camille always liked the attention.”

Troy’s head whipped around, fury flaring behind his eyes. “Toying with us? On our wedding day? Are you insane, Jasmine?”

Jasmine shrugged, pretending innocence. Trevor looked between them, a bead of sweat running down his temple. “She’ll come,” he muttered. “Just wait. She’ll come. She has to.”

But the whispers were turning to gossip. The violinist, seeing no bride, put his bow down. Someone from Troy’s family tugged on his sleeve, asking what they should tell the guests if she didn’t show.

No. She wouldn’t do this. Troy’s mind raced. There was no way Camille would humiliate him like this. Not after everything he’d done for her, not when she still needed him—she needed him.

But the longer he stood there, the more the certainty cracked inside him.

Without a word, he pushed Trevor aside, ignoring Jasmine’s protests as he stormed down the aisle. He didn’t even wait for the driver—he yanked his car keys from his pocket, his footsteps echoing through the hushed church.

He floored it all the way back to the house, heart hammering so loud it drowned out the engine’s roar. She wouldn’t dare. She wouldn’t dare. But in the pit of his gut, he knew—Camille was capable of anything now. That frightened him more than the humiliation.

He slammed through the front door, shouting her name. “Camille! Camille, where the hell are you?!”

Silence. Not even the echo of footsteps.

His voice rose to a snarl. “Camille! Come out, you coward. You think this is funny? You think you can make a fool of me—?”

He stopped short in the living room. His eyes darted around, taking in the emptiness. The shelves stripped bare of their framed photos. The drawers empty, the suitcases gone. Even the small vase her mother had given her—the one she’d sworn she’d never part with—was missing from its spot.

A piece of paper sat on the kitchen island next to a small cake, its candle already burned down to a stub of wax. He stepped closer, dread pooling cold in his veins.

The ring box sat there too—his grandmother’s ring. The one he’d used to bind her to him all those years ago.

His eyes flicked to the note, scrawled in her unmistakable handwriting:

I’m done with you. I’m marrying someone else. Be happy without me. Goodbye, my ex-fiancé.

The words blurred. He read them again. And again. They didn’t change.

“No…” he whispered, voice trembling. His fingers crushed the paper in his fist. “No. She wouldn’t. She wouldn’t—this is a joke.”

He grabbed the cake and hurled it at the wall. The splatter of frosting and crumbs did nothing to silence the screaming in his head. His phone was out before the frosting even hit the floor. He dialed her number. Straight to voicemail. Again. Again.

Finally, he called the lawyer. “Where is she? Where the hell is she?! She’s mine—she can’t do this. She can’t leave me.”

The lawyer’s voice was infuriatingly calm. “Mr. Troy, I’m afraid I can’t disclose anything. You’re not legally bound anymore. You have no authority over Ms. Camille’s affairs.”

Troy’s mouth went dry. “What are you talking about? I’m her guardian. I’m her fiancé! I own her company—”

“About that,” the lawyer interrupted, “you’ve been removed. The company ownership was transferred back to Ms. Camille this morning. You’ve been terminated.”

“That’s impossible—”

“It’s already filed,” the lawyer said flatly. “Good day, Mr. Troy.”

The line went dead.

Troy hurled his phone across the room, where it hit the wall and cracked in half. He stumbled back, gasping like a man drowning. She left. She left me. She left everything.

Footsteps. Trevor and Jasmine came through the front door, breathless.

“What the hell happened to the house?!” Trevor demanded, eyes wide as he took in the barren shelves, the half-packed boxes scattered by the door.

“Where are our things?” Jasmine shrieked, mascara smudged under her eyes. “What did you do, Troy?! Where’s Camille?”

Troy turned on them, eyes wild. “That bitch!” he roared. “She left us with nothing. She’s gone! She sold the house—she sold everything—”

He sank to his knees in the middle of the empty living room, fists pounding the floor. “She’s gone,” he whispered, voice ragged. “She’s gone…”